Mouse Your House: Yuletide Edition
'It's what everyone has been waiting for! Another all-new episode of the hit SCURRY TV show Mouse Your House! Our mice bring style and finesse to wayward abodes. The winter solstice brings them to a 'Holiday House' that doubles as an event center. Can they work their magic before the Christmas gala? Find out next!'
Was nervous about doing a follow up to the original, but it's a format that sorta begs continuation. Had to at least try. So, after a full year, here's the first attempt! Hopefully, it's halfway as fun/funny as the first. I'd like think we'll see more 'episodes' down the line? And there's always MYH: Apartment Edition and Squirrel Your Stuff, too. The SCURRY TV Wednesday night lineup is really taking off!
_Tick, tick, tick ... _
It's eight-o'clock!
The primetime network feed starts.
"Tomorrow night," an announcer declares, voice rising with excitement, "it's the mid-season finale of Taking It On the Chin. Conrad the chinchilla is _always_down on his luck, and he's always got some crazy scheme to change it!"
"But, tonight, it's YOUR reality Wednesday! Yuletide Edition!"
The sound of 'sleigh bells' starts up.
"First up, Mouse Your House! Our fabulous mousey fivesome answers harried homeowners' pleas, bringing style and finesse into their wayward abodes! The winter solstice brings them to a home that doubles as a holiday museum! Can they spruce it up in time for a Christmas gala?"
"At 8:30, Mouse Your House: Apartment Edition. They can fix that, too! This week's apartment dwellers are adamant about having a real Christmas tree. Can the mice agree on how to decorate it?"
"At 9, are you becoming a hoarder? Garage overflowing? Our squirrels can help with that! It's Squirrel Your Stuff. The squirrels race against the clock to organize a family's backlog of old Christmas gifts before new ones are unwrapped."
"And, finally, at 9:30, lucky contestants' street cars get turned into hot rods by our team of plucky mechanics. With 'rattitude.' That's right. Rev up for Rat Your Ride! Decorating their rides like Santa's sleigh, they're about to put the 'cool' in Christmas!"
"Only on SCURRY TV. 'Programs to gnaw on'!"
Cut to black.
A tall, regal buckskin mare, honey-gold hide (with random snowy patches) and black limbs that segue to white at the ends, moves from room to room in a festively decorated home. Or maybe a museum? Everything seems immaculately placed.
She is holding a clipboard, her rubber-socked hooves faintly scuffing on the hardwood floor.
Big, fluffy snowflakes fall outside the windows.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - Winifred : "My name's Winifred." The horse points to her nametag. "But everyone calls me Whinny!"
Cut to house.
More video of the mare roaming.
Into a dining room.
A fancy kitchen, complete with convection oven.
A reception hall. Enough tables and chairs to fit nearly a hundred people.
INTERVIEW CHAIR:"I'm the curator for the 'Holiday House' here in Santa Claus, Indiana. Yes, it's a real town! Ha, ha!" The mare giggles brightly. "And we aren't only about Christmas, but ... yeah. We sorta are." Camera zooms in. Her head tilts, and she brushes her jet-black mane from her eyes. "It was between that and Arbor Day."
Cut to stairwell.
Winifred walks up a curving, creaking staircase. Once upstairs, she moves past a few open doors. Bedrooms, mostly. The camera peers into one before hurrying after her.
"Second story is 'living quarters.' There's enough room for a dozen guests," she says, looking over her shoulder.
Cut to downstairs.
Winifred is now in the lobby.
She spreads her arms.
"This place used to be a hotel! Now it's a museum and 'community center.' Or 'event center?' Eh, same thing! People rent it out for functions and gatherings. Weddings, anniversary parties. Holiday gatherings. That's how we get our income. And the biggest of them all is coming up real soon!"
Cut to Winifred in front of a bulletin board, pointing to a flyer in the middle.
"Santa's WinterFest Slamboree!" After a moment, she amends, "It's, uh, not quite as awesome as it sounds." Her smile reappears. "But it's still fun!"
INTERVIEW CHAIR - WINIFRED:"Due to continued shortfalls in the town budget ... "
An overlay of a local newspaper headline appears.
'Town Council Member Accused of Embezzling Thousands Wins Reelection, Proclaims 'I Have No Intention to Resign.'
INTERVIEW CHAIR:"Our scheduled and thrice-delayed renovation has been put on hold. Permanently. When I heard the mice were doing a 'Yuletide' episode, I knew I had to get them here!"
Cut to front yard.
A van pulls up.
The 'Mouse Your House' logo is plastered on the side.
Doors open and five mice spill out of it. It's an adorable scene ... until the bickering starts. Which is immediately.
"Holy (BLEEP!), it's cold!" Lonny complains, decked out in a parka coat, ear-mittens, and a thermal tail-sock. The handsome grasshopper mouse, or 'howler,' shoves his paws in his pockets, buckteeth chattering. His fur is a dusty, sandy 'dirty tan' on his head, back, and limbs, becoming off-white on the front.
"It's barely below freezing," Monty (short for Monticello) insists, wearing a windbreaker and a fashionable cap.
"It's (BLEEP!)-ing snowing, man!" Lonny gestures at their wintry surroundings. He then stares at Monty. "Where's your tail-sock?" All the other mice are wearing one.
"They make my ass look big," the effeminate house mouse says, as if it was obvious. His sooty blue-grey and white fur blends with the cloudy, wintry landscape.
"What?" Lonny makes a face and looks at the camera. Then back to Monty. "How?"
"Besides, this isn't snow. What's the coverage here?" Monty kicks at it. It's loose and powdery and creates a sparkly mist. "Two, three inches? Barely a dusting."
Lonny makes a 'psh!' sound. "You're from Minnesota. You probably grew up on a glacier. I'm from the desert!"
"Uh, ever been to Minnesota in the summer?" Monty challenges. "Ever heard of humidity?"
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY:"Why do you think we have ten thousand lakes? Now, would I personally swim in them?" The camera zooms in. "I'm all for getting sucked off, but not by leeches."
Cut to yard.
Tasked with landscaping jobs, Lonny is still complaining.
"I gotta work out here! The rest of you get to hang out inside."
"R.I.P," Monty says.
Lonny approaches a string of exterior Christmas lights. They are on the fritz, only two-thirds of the bulbs glowing. The string is wrapped around a tilted pole. Parts of it are tangled together. "How does this even happen? And what's this supposed to be, anyway?" he asks.
"Looks like a toy soldier to me!" Edina, the painter, says. The team's sole female. A harvest mouse, her fur is warm honeyed gold and creamy white, giving her a sugary, cutesy vibe. "Look at the colors."
"Toy soldier." Lonny tilts his head, not seeing it. "Is that a euphemism?"
"What? No!"
"Maybe it's Santa's pole," Fridley offers. The brown-and-white deer mouse, Monty's mate and the team's furniture expert, is wearing a woolen pair of mittens. He is a few inches taller than Monty.
"Santa's pole? So, what, it's his (BLEEP!)?"
"Must you be so crude, Lonny? The cameras are rolling," Edina says in as sweet a voice as possible. She smiles at one of said cameras.
"Never seen a (BLEEP!) that lights up," Monty quips.
"If you haven't seen it, then it doesn't exist," Lonny zings right back.
Monty initially makes a face, then shrugs.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY:"True."
Cut to yard.
"No, Santa has an actual pole," Fridley explains. "Outside his house. Like a calling card."
"Why?" Lonny asks.
"Don't you know anything about Christmas?" asks Billings, a second harvest mouse (and Edina's new-ish mate). He is the group's electrician.
"When you grow up surrounded by sand and cactuses, you--"
"Cacti, dear," Monty corrects.
"Pretty sure it goes both ways. Like me," the bisexual mouse insists.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY:"Lonny does have something in common with cacti. They're both pric--"
Cut to yard.
"Why do cold-weather people get to determine cultural traditions?" Lonny complains. Grasshopper mice are rather confrontational. He rarely lets things go.
"It's our perk for having to put up with icy cold hell-fire for half the year."
"I assume he has a pole because he lives at the North Pole?" Billings provides.
"Basically," Fridley says.
"Who? Santa? The North Pole?" Lonny echoes. "Hold on. Since when?"
"Where did you _think_Santa was from?" Edina asks with a sigh.
"I don't know. Heaven?"
"That's silly talk," Monty said. "He lives in a big workshop in the middle of nowhere in the dark, icy north with his non-unionized elves, where they make bootleg toys to sneak into people's homes."
"When you put it that way," Lonny says dryly.
"We should go inside," Fridley insists, the cold nipping at his nose. "I can barely feel my whiskers."
As they cluster together and scurry for the front door, Edina sneaks up behind Billings and puts a Santa hat on his head, right between his pink, dishy ears.
"Oh, you!" Billings says with a goofy smile, turning to face her. "You're begging for a kiss!"
"Not unless you find some mistletoe!" Edina says coyly. "It's Yuletide rules."
In the doorway, Lonny rolls his eyes before going in.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - LONNY:"Harvest mice are so ... cutesy. It's been worse since they officially got together. Like, sex isn't supposed to be wholesome, guys!" He scowls. "Don't ruin it for the rest of us."
THEME SONG
COMMERCIAL BREAK
_ _
At twilight, a red squirrel is playing card games on a porch with assorted rodent friends. The Christmas tree is glowing. Fire is crackling. Snow is piling up outside the windows.
The squirrel goes to gnaw on a wood stick, which instantly breaks in half in their mouth. The squirrel grimaces, barking out in exaggerated pain.
"Has this happened to you?" an announcer asks.
The squirrel nods, their friends oblivious to the omniscient narrator.
"Tired of splinters on your tongue? Ready to move on from those old chew sticks?"
"Yes!" the squirrel declares. "But what can I do?"
"Try Ro-chews!"
A colorful image of the product appears, followed by a flash as the product finds itself magically transported into the squirrel's paws.
The squirrel's eyes widen.
"Your teeth are special," the announcer says. "They don't stop for anything, and neither should you! Gnaw in peace with Ro-chews, the chew stick formula that's hard on teeth but easy on your mouth! None of that bitter aftertaste. Comes in mint, bubblegum, or plain. And less mess! Ro-chews. Recommended by four out of five ro-dentists!"
The squirrel gives a thumbs up to the camera as they gnaw on a Ro-chew stick, flipping their cards over and proclaiming, "I win!"
END OF BREAK
A handheld camera follows Monticello, Fridley, and Edina as they enter the Holiday House's main hall. Billings and Lonny veer off into the side-rooms.
"It's so ... cheap. And garish," Monty says slowly, almost impressed. He turns around in a full circle, looking at the ceiling. "Is ... is that stucco patterning? My God." He puts a paw over his heart, gaze returning to the walls. "Look at all this red! You _know_how I feel about red, Edina."
"I remember, Monty," she confirms.
"It is Indiana," Fridley reasons, checking out the chairs. The cushions are worn. And the legs are uneven. "Paint everything blue to trigger them."
"Blue isn't a Yuletide color, silly," Edina says, missing the reference. She is already getting out her paint chips, sticking them to the walls with painter's tape. She puts her paws on her hips. "This place is mainly focused on Christmas!"
"I suppose that's all they have going for them here," Monty reasons matter-of-factly.
"Don't you want to be filled with the holiday spirit?" Edina continues brightly.
Monty side-eyes the camera.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY : "The only thing I want to be filled with is Fridley. When we're done here, we're going to the Virgin Islands. The British ones, obviously." He tilts his nose upward. "I'm not a heathen."
Cut to room.
Winifred peeks around the corner, having been spying on them for several minutes, before finally and excitedly bounding into the open. Her weight makes the fine china rattle in the cabinets. "Oh, my gosh, you guuuyss! I can't believe you're here."
"That makes two of us," Monty replies.
Winifred chuckles. "Classic Monty!" She pats the shorter mouse on the head. "You're even funnier in person."
The house mouse gives the camera a bewildered look.
"I'm Winifred. Call me Whinny. I'm, like, in charge here. Heh. But I won't get in your way! I promise." She held up her arms in a 'hands off' gesture. "Y'know, I've seen every_episode," Whinny continues. "You _could say I'm a mega-fan, but, uh ... all that aside, we really need your help."
Fridley sits in a chair. It wobbles. One of the legs is shorter than the others. The deer mouse puts a paw to his forehead as if the furniture faux pas is going to make him faint.
Monty immediately pulls him from the chair.
Whinny, talking mostly to Edina now, says, "So, this is a dual-purpose event center and museum. And, uh, community center. It's kind of confusing. But not really. Anyway! There's a _lot_of holiday antiques in here. People come from all over to see them. Not just in the winter, but even in summer, too. In fact, this building is on the state's registry of historic places!"
"That's so neat!" Edina proclaims. She holds up a trio of paint chips. "Do you like spruce, pine, or fir?"
"Umm ... spruce?"
"Good call! Nothing 'spruces' up a room like 'spruce green'." Edina giggles at her own 'joke.'
"Heh. Well, we have five days before the gala. Or, technically, 'Slamboree'. So, whatever you guys can do, that would be great! I know how you operate. I don't want to get in the way," she repeats nervously. "I'm just, y'know, so thrilled to watch you work."
Lonny, hearing this as he enters last with Billings, perks as he sees the tall, busty mare. "Oh!" A smile spreads across his muzzle. "You're a fan of the show?"
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY:"Yup. Here we go ... "
INTERVIEW CHAIR - BILLINGS:"Like clockwork. And I should know! I had to fix a cuckoo clock earlier this season, and it was--"
INTERVIEW CHAIR - EDINA:"Lonny has a tendency to, um ... well ... "
INTERVIEW CHAIR - FRIDLEY:"He tries to get into the homeowners' pants. Every time. Guy, girl. He doesn't discriminate." The camera pushes in on Fridley's face. "We take bets on whether he'll score or not."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - BILLINGS:"He's batting just under .400 this season. Which would make him the best hitter in baseball! But, uh ... this isn't quite the same thing, is it?"
INTERVIEW CHAIR - FRIDLEY: Blows out a breath. "This time? Mm, I think ... hmm ... yeah, he'll get some. I mean, Whinny's_clearly_ horny for the show, and he's the only one of us that's available. If she (BLEEP!)s him, that's as close as she'll get to actually (BLEEP!)-ing the show itself. Ultimate fangirl dream."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY : "I felt bad for him a few months ago."
The screen shows a montage from Episode 4.8, back in October. A cougar's house. Or puma's? Some big cat. Lonny sitting dejected and shirtless in the garage. Monty saunters into the frame.
INTERVIEW CHAIR:"Set him up with some squirrel Fridley knows. It obviously didn't stick."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - LONNY:"Uh, yeah, his name was Rodney, and you ever been with a squirrel?" The camera pushes in on Lonny's face. "They're (BLEEP!)-ing crazy. Their default mode is 'I just drank five cans of Mountain Dew and, hey, let's bungee jump from a Redwood tree.' No, thanks, dude."
Lonny leans back.
INTERVIEW CHAIR:"I mean, sure, us howler mice, we're not saints. We're pretty hardcore. Scorpion venom ... " A self-satisfied smirk. "It's basically an aphrodisiac to us." He pauses, the smile fading. "But I still like to get some sleep and not break all the bones in my body.
"So, yeah, I'm a loose end again. Winifred? She's hot. Horses are hot." A sage nod, as if this is a universal truth. "Some of the homeowners we meet are stuffy. Control freaks. Not her. She's going out of her way to let us know we can 'do our thing'." He pauses. "Never been with a mare. Mm. I hear they have amazing ... y'know, '_muscle_control'?"
He gives a big, obvious wink at the camera.
"Sign me the (BLEEP!) up."
COMMERCIAL BREAK
A mellow announcer proclaims, "Some of us have more fur than others ... "
A female chinchilla rolls out of bed, looking down at white sheets covered with shed fur. She puts her paws on her hips and gives an exasperated look to the camera.
"It can be a problem," the announcer continues. "And can even lead to ... 'misunderstandings'."
In a generic household setting, a male chipmunk in a Christmas sweater is being questioned by his mate, who suspiciously points to the fur on his 'festive' pants.
"That's not your fur color." The mate squints. "What are you hiding?"
"N-nothing!" he stammers nervously. "It was that chinchilla at work. She's shedding all over the office! I must've sat in a chair she used at the holiday party."
The announcer rejoins, proclaiming, "Now, with the updated Pelt Roller Pro, you can keep your fur to yourself! Our new, stickier formula gets all those loose hairs secured without damaging fabric."
The camera cuts to a room with subdued lighting and jazzy Christmas music, where the chinchilla is running a Pelt Roller Pro over the 'innocent' chipmunk's backside.
"Pelt Roller Pro," the announcer says smoothly. "Your fur is your own business."
END OF BREAK
"There must be a short somewhere."
"It doesn't matter," Lonny tells Billings, hugging himself and jumping in place to keep warm. The two are outside, in the front yard. Lonny claps his gloved paws together, breaths become vapor clouds upon exhale. This leaves ice crystals on his whiskers. "I'm not trying to save the old lights. We're ripping them all out. Replacing everything."
"Then what do you need my help for?" Billings asks.
"You're an electrician? Last I checked, lights require electricity."
Billings put his paws on his hips. His whiskers twitch. "I also have to install new lights indoors."
Lonny ignores this, rattling off, "I need help with the wiring ... extension cords, outlets, weatherproofing." He waves a paw as if to say 'whatever.' "You make sure it glows, I'll tell you where it goes."
"Is that our tag team mantra?" Billings asks excitedly.
"Sure."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - LONNY:"Harvest mice," he states sarcastically. "'Oh, look at me, I'm so cute and golden and blue-eyed with a prehensile tail.' Wow, man. But can you wrestle a snake?"
Cut to interior house.
Edina is watching the boys from the window.
"Billy must be getting cold out there," she says to no one in particular. "Maybe I should make him some hot cocoa!"
Monty, hearing the phrase 'hot cocoa,' says, "That's very retro, dear. Try mulled wine, instead."
"What about cider?" Fridley asks.
"You know I avoid yokel drinks."
Winifred, wandering in randomly, surveys the changes they've been making. "Looks great so far!"
The mare instantly sidles up to Edina.
"So, what's Lonny's deal?" Winifred asks quietly, forgetting that mice have big, keen ears.
"His 'deal'?" Monty echoes from across the room.
Winifred sighs, pivoting to an instant smile. "Yeah! Like ... well, I know what he's like on the show, but is he the same when the cameras are off?"
"If you're asking if Lonny has any acting skills, the answer is 'ha, ha! No'."
"Oh, well. Heh. He's kinda ... like the 'bad boy' of your group. Y'know?" The mare giggles, clasping her hands together and swaying back and forth. "Like, in Episode 3.12, when he installed that super-bouncy diving board on that pool and was the first to test it out? And did the cannonball and splashed everyone? Or when he knocked down that hornets' nest with a broom in Episode 2.17?"
Monty frowns and gingerly touches his own neck. "We all remember that one."
"Didn't know if that was a 'persona' or if he'll really, uh, do anything," the mare continues.
"Or anyone," Monty mutters.
If Whinny heard that, she ignored it.
"What you see is what you get with Lonny," Edina tells the mare diplomatically. "Though, if you ask me, he's a heartbreaker. I'd be careful if I were you!" She wags a finger at the bigger woman. "We're only here for a few days, remember."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - WINIFRED:"They're trying to keep me away from Lonny. I get it." The camera jump-cuts to a closer angle. "They're jealous! They're protective of their group dynamic, and they think I might hurt him." She puts a hand over her heart in a 'that's so sweet!' gesture. "They pretend they aren't all best friends, but I've seen every episode! They can't fool me.
"I mean, yes, I'm taller, stronger, and heavier than Lonny, but ... he could turn the tables, you know?" She clears her throat, bashfully admitting, "I mean, if he wanted. Not that, uh, 'size difference' and 'role reversal' are kinks of mine ... "
Her hazel eyes dart before looking straight into the camera.
Later in the day.
Monty is on a low-key tirade.
"There's too many Santa faces in this room."
"Faces?" Edina asks.
"Yes, it's not even full Santas. Just the heads! All different species, too. Like, is he predator or prey? He can't be both. Pick a side."
"Maybe he has transformational powers," Edina suggests. "Isn't he an elf?"
"No, dear, he _employs_elves. As slave labor."
"I thought you said they were non-unionized?" Edina remembers.
"Same thing?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Do we have documentation of wages? Hiring practices? No. Is he a tax evader? Almost certainly. Why? Because Santa rules with an iron paw. The power's gotten to his head." A pause. "And elves can't transform. Everyone knows that." Realizing he hasn't answered Edina's original question, Monty says, "He's probably an alien or some (BLEEP!)."
"I feel like you might have some issues with Santa," Edina says, whispering supportively, "Did you catch your mother kissing him? Like in the song?"
"No. But I did catch her kissing Mrs. Claus."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY:"It runs in the family."
Cut to room.
"Anyway!" Edina says, trying to take back control of the conversation. She opens a can of bright green paint. 'Yuletide Green,' it's called.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - EDINA:"I had originally chosen spruce green with Whinny's help, but ... you know, it was a tad too dark? And there aren't enough windows in this particular room to pull that off. No, the best color for--"
Cut to room.
Edina ties her painting apron on and makes sure her edge tape is covering the baseboards. "What are you replacing the Santa décor with?"
"Mm? Was thinking ... " Monty shrugs. "Snowflakes? But there's no color there. Too drab." He clicks his tongue and puts a paw on his hip, slanting his stance. "Ribbons and bows, maybe? This place is supposed to be festive. I don't want to feel like I'm in a museum."
"But it is a museum."
"To bad taste?" Monty asks.
"We can't throw any of this stuff out," Edina says. "It technically belongs to the town. You heard Whinny. They're all antiques."
The camera swivels to a huge pile of old stuff.
"We gotta store it away in the basement," Edina continues.
"Eh. I'm not going down there. Lonny can do it. I've seen horror movies before." He skips a beat before adding, "I also saw that episode of Gilligan's Island as a kid. The one with the giant spider that traps them in that cave?" He hugs himself. "(BLEEP!) that."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY:"Horror movies? Not on my own volition, of course. An old boyfriend, a fox, made me watch them."
The camera cuts to a new angle.
"Mice were always _first_to go. Sweet, waify, innocent."
The camera zooms in on Monty's face.
"Alright, fine, most mice. Happy?"
He waves the camera back.
"Point is, mouse deaths toy with the audience's emotions. We're canon fodder in all dramatic stories. In comedic stories? We're the supportive 'best friends'. I'm sorry? Uh, no." He held up a paw. "I'm the hero of this story, bitch."
Remembering the basement, he goes, "Oh. So, like, yeah, if I go down into the basement and get eaten by a centipede? America will be bereft!" A pause. "Not to mention this show will be dead in the water."
Monty crosses his arms, daring anybody to refute that.
Cut to room.
"What are you going to do, then?" Edina demands, looking politely perturbed. "Because I've already chosen my color for these walls." She waves around a paintbrush with her prehensile tail.
"Does it have to be that?"
"Christmas has a set color scheme. Red, green, and white. You hate red. Now you hate green? I don't want to paint this room white. You don't even want white snowflakes."
Waving away the argument, Monty mumbles, "Fine, fine. I'll work miracles ... like usual."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY:"I've been told that people from Indiana are called 'Hoosiers'?" He makes a face. "I'm not going to waste time looking it up, so I'll just accept that's _somehow_true. Now, I ask you, what would someone who calls themselves a 'Hoosier' find aesthetically pleasing?"
Cut to room.
Monty takes another creepy Santa face off the wall. "I'm going to throw so much shine and sparkle at them, they'll be in tacky heaven."
"It'll be fabulous!" Edina squeaks, clapping her paws together.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY: He glares. "She just had to say the F-word."
Cut to reception hall.
Fridley is surveying potential chairs for the elevated stage where the guest of honor, 'Santa Claus' will be seated. Along with a Mrs. or Mr. Claus. TBD.
He sees Winifred and waves her over.
"Does Santa have a throne?" the deer mouse asks. "I'm pretty sure he does, but I don't know how you folks do things here."
"A throne?" Whinny echoes. "Um, no ... just a chair."
"Are you sure?"
"I've lived in Santa Claus, Indiana, my whole life."
"Right, right ... but, uh, it's a plush, fancy chair, right? He's Father Christmas. Essentially the king of the season."
"Mm. I think you'd get some pushback on that from the local chur--"
"He's not sitting in a _folding_chair."
"No."
"So, it's a throne!"
Winifred looks into the camera. "Well ... "
"I've got three options." The mouse scurries to the first. "This one is faux gold with a plush, velvety red seat." Fridley hops into it and smiles, wriggling backward. His foot-paws not reaching the floor, he grips the armrests. His ropy tail whips over the side. "Mmm. Ooh, and then that one ... "
"As long as it looks good in the photo ops with the kids!" Whinny insists, backing away.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - FRIDLEY : "What's so weird about it? If she can be horny for Lonny, I can be horny for good furniture." Fridley looks over his shoulder at one of the chairs. "Bet Monty and I can fit into that one at the same time." He looks back at the camera. He clicks his tongue, ears getting noticeably flushed. "Probably shouldn't use that one for the gala, then ... "
Cut to outside.
As it's getting dark, Lonny surveys the yard proudly.
"This is going to (BLEEP!) the halls. I think I really nailed it this time."
"You?" Billings gives a 'really?' look at the camera, whiskers twitching.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - BILLINGS : "Instead of putting up lights in the reception hall and strategically placing mistletoe in a random doorways and getting Edina to walk through them so I can kiss her in public ... " He takes a deep breath. "I've been weaving wires and cords all through the snowy yard!" He rubs at his cheeks. "I think he's got too much voltage here. This would never pass inspection from the fire marshal."
Cut to yard.
Trudging through the snow, Billings adjusts his toboggan hat, ears jutting past the edges. His thermal tail-sock, a deep sky blue, wavers about as his tail does. He double-checks a connection. "We're ready to give it a try."
"You need sunglasses?" Lonny asks Billings. "Cause it's about to get jolly and bright."
"About that. Um. Maybe check your expectations? Like I said before, you may have overdone it. All these lights are going into the same part of the house. You're almost certainly going to trip a breaker. If we could at least spread them out and--"
INTERVIEW CHAIR - LONNY:"Nerd."
Cut to yard.
"Spread them out where?" Lonny interrupts. "The backyard? It's all parking spaces back there. Not enough room. No, front yard is the prime real estate. It's where the street is. People are gonna drive by and wreck their cars cause they'll be so distracted by what's about to happen."
"And that's a good thing?"
"Come on, flip the switch!"
"It's not technically a switch as much as a plu--"
"Wait! Wait, we need a countdown," Lonny insists.
"We do?"
"All great moments have countdowns. The moon launch? New Year's Eve?"
Billings considers this.
"I'll count, you flip. We'll start at three."
"Don't countdowns normally start at ten?"
"Three!" Lonny shouted, unwilling to wait. "Two! One! Let 'er rip!"
The yard lights up, glowing all sorts of bright colors. Reds, yellows, oranges! Blues and greens! Some traditional white lights were mixed in, too. It was dazzling! So many blinking, sparkling shapes. Sleighs and snowmice and gingerbread men.
"Ha! Bet you could see this from space! They want tourists? This will attract a crowd."
The lights suddenly blinked, buzzed, and then switched off. Not just the yard lights. But the lights inside the house as well.
Alarmed squeaks could be heard inside.
"Um, Lonny."
Lonny sighs and looks at the camera.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - LONNY: Deadpan."Merry (BLEEP!)-ing Christmas."
COMMERCIAL BREAK
A fancy rat winces as they apply aloe to a sunburned tail on a sunny beach.
An announcer laments, "You don't need that ... ! Or this ... "
A harvest mouse shivers at a bus stop in the snow, trying in vain to stuff their prehensile tail underneath their winter coat.
"You need T-Sox!" the announcer insists. "The new ultra-comfortable tail-sock for all weather conditions. Thermally insulated for winter. Or light and breathable for summer. In flesh tones for blending in or neon colors to represent your bold personality!"
Many fashions of tail-sock covering many different naked tails, male and female, whip across the screen.
"Yes, there's a T-Sox for everyone!"
The rat and mouse, walking side-by-side in a wintry park, by a pond full of ice skaters, laugh and look back to the camera, tail-socked tails curling together.
"T-Sox. Because furless tails matter, too."
END OF BREAK
By the day of the gala, the problems in the yard have been remedied.
Almost.
The temperature has climbed since the mice arrived, turning the snow from a dusty, sparkling powder to misshapen slush. This has made the ground softer and caused some of the light fixtures to lean and tilt.
In the kitchen, Winifred puts a pot of water on the stove. Noticing the camera, she brushes her mane back with a hand and giggles.
"What? Oh, nothing. I'm just making some tea. Peppermint tea. Seems kind of holiday-ish. And, uh ... thought Lonny might like some. He's been so brave being out in the cold all week. And he's leaving soon ... "
The mare looks off into the distance, pining more than a Christmas tree.
Cut to yard.
Lonny and Billings are re-securing the lighting fixtures while Monty helps Fridley bring in the last of the new furniture. They are using a dolly to wheel it up the sidewalk to the front door. Edina is in the street, taking pictures of the scene with her phone. For posterity.
The camera doesn't catch who throws the first snowball. Only that it hits Monty square on the rump as he's approaching the front steps.
The house mouse's tail whips straight up. He stops pushing the dolly and turns around. "Alright, I know all of you want my ass, but--"
Another snowball hits him, this time on the cheek.
"Oh! Oh, it's all coming out now, is it?" he squeaks dramatically, bending over to grab paws-ful of snow. "Lonny, it was you, wasn't it?"
"Wha-? Why do I always get blamed for everything?"
Monty squints, packing and forming a formidably large snowball. "Because you can never keep your paws out of cookie jars."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - LONNY:"Okay, so it was me. You know the old saying. Give a mouse a cookie, and he'll want to throw a snowball at Monty."
Cut to yard.
"Are you seriously going to throw that at me?" Lonny asked with a laugh. "Ha! I've seen you throw."
The screen jump-cuts to a montage of clips from past episodes where Monty is hurling objects in frustration. A pillow. A picture frame. An inflatable carrot. They don't travel very far.
Monty just smirks and casually extends his arm, handing the snowball to Fridley.
Lonny's eyes widened.
But it is too late, and Fridley hurls the snowball with both velocity and pinpoint accuracy. All the way from the steps. It explodes against Lonny's shoulder. The warm-weather mouse squeaks, flails, and lands on his back in the snow. "I've been hit! Mouse down!"
Edina, still taking pictures, giggles uncontrollably.
Lonny frowns and pushes himself back up, haphazardly forming a snowball and lobbing it at her.
Edina is hit on the arm, causing her phone to fall into the snow.
"Hey!" Billings, protecting his mate, throws a snowball at Lonny.
"I see how it is!" the howler mouse says. "Ganging up on me! You're all in for it, now!" He starts packing and flinging snowballs indiscriminately.
The mice all scurry and squeak.
Edina crawls toward Billings.
Monty and Fridley leave the dolly on the walk and take cover.
The front yard becomes a winter warzone.
Winifred emerges with a tray of hot peppermint tea when an errant snowball strikes her. Given her size, it harmlessly bounces off.
"Oh, my gosh!" the horse shouts, before a big grin dominates her long face. Her hairy tail swooshes about. "I love snowball fights!" She sets the tray down and joins in, telling Lonny, "I'll provide cover for you!"
"Awesome!" he says.
The mare is an excellent shot, and she forces the mice to duck and hide from her projectiles. This allows Lonny to circle around and hit them from their clear sides.
Monty is hit by another. This one causes him to fall on his face. He spits out snow, droplets clinging to his whiskers. "Oh, no, you didn't!" he squeaks.
"Don't knock over our lighting structures. We spent a lot of time--" Before Billings can finish the sentence, a 'snowman' is knocked onto its side.
The squeaks become giggles.
Giggles turn to outright laughter.
Snowballs continue to fly.
Zip!
Zing!
Zow!
"Ha! S-stop it ... "
"You wouldn't dare."
"Pound him, Fridley!"
"Uh, phrasing?!"
"Oof!"
"Good throw, Billy!"
Horse whinnies and neighs mix in as Winifred, a couple heads taller, stands back-to-back with Lonny. The other four have formed a pact and are now advancing on them as a group.
"We'll never surrenderrrrr!" Winifred shouts defiantly, both arms in the evening air, which is becoming darker by the second.
Suddenly, a car pulls up and the window rolls down. A confused chipmunk says, "Um ... the, uh, Winterfest Slamboree is here ... right?"
"Ha ... uh, oh, yeah," Winifred pants. She points, brushing the snow off her clothes. Clearing her throat, she adopts a more serious tone. "Parking is behind the building. Event hall is through the double doors."
"Okay." The chipmunk gives them all a weird look. "Um. Thanks ... "
Window rolling back up, the car pulls around the drive and skirts around to the back of the building.
Lonny, adjusting his clothes, scoffs. "What was his problem?"
"He acts like he's never seen grown-ups having a snowball fight before!" Winifred says.
"The nerve," Fridley says.
"People are so judgmental," Monty opines.
Edina gives Monty an incredulous look.
Whinny checks her phone. "The gala is in less than an hour. Oh, gosh. We gotta get ready, guys! I gotta brush my mane, get into my dress," Winifred says, galloping off mid-thought. "Oh, can someone bring in the tea?" she shouts back at them. "It's probably cold by now. Thanks!"
Lonny watches her go, the way her rump and breasts move. He huffs.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - LONNY:"Like I said, you can't spell horse without hot." He pauses, thinking about this. "Well ... sorta."
Cut to yard.
Billings re-secures the lighting fixtures they knocked over.
Edina goes to fetch the tea tray.
Lonny, taking a deep breath, looks around and puffs up. "Ha! Everyone's giving up? Guess that means I--"
Multiple snowballs hit him, knocking off his hat.
"Win," he finishes, ducking to the ground.
The 'Slamboree' is a big success.
Fun and merriment are being had by all, and the Holiday House is making a healthy amount from the booking (and spontaneously spirited donations). There are multiple comments about the refreshed décor as folks wander through the museum portion of the house.
Most of them positive.
"Didn't there used to be Santa faces in here?" A rabbit wonders. "I miss the faces."
Cut to event hall.
In the background, standing taller than most of the crowd and therefore unable to blend in, Winifred is spotted leaving the room through the 'museum entrance' doors.
The camera soon locks in on Lonny, who is approaching the same exit. The 'howler' looks around (not-so-casually) before ducking out.
The camera whip-pans and zooms in on Monty. Far side of the room, drink in paw, clearly having witnessed the whole charade. "Hey, Fridley," he calls.
"Mm?" The deer mouse comes up to his mate.
"You win the bet."
Cut to other side of room, desserts table.
"Have you visited with Santa yet?" Billings asks Edina.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, you have a plate of cookies."
"Maybe they're for you," she says sweetly, extending the plate to him.
Billings takes a cookie, nibbling the edges. Crumbs fly off his whiskers. "What would you ask him for?"
"Santa? Mm, I don't know," Edina says, shyly fiddling with the remaining cookies.
"How about a kiss?" Billings tail zips up, the tip curled around a sprig of mistletoe.
"Oh! Is that real mistletoe?" She puts her plate down on the dessert table and clasped her paws behind her back, hips swaying side to side.
"Only the best for my gal."
"Oh, Billy!"
The two harvest mice sweetly, passionately kiss, hugging each other close and triggering a chorus of nearby 'awww's!'
END CREDITS BEGIN TO PLAY ON THE SIDE OF THE SCREEN
Cut to second floor, living quarters.
The camera peers through a door (which, in haste, hasn't been fully shut).
There's a commotion inside.
Lonny and Winifred are having sex.
Naked.
On a bed.
Loudly.
Their bodies are largely obscured by blurred circles and moving black bars, but it doesn't take much imagination to see past the censoring.
"Lonny!"
"Whinny ... (BLEEP!) ... "
"Yes, yes ... like that!"
The mouse seems to be on top.
The mare's legs are apparently spread wide open, hooves in the air.
"You feel so (BLEEP!)-ing good," Lonny mutters, rocking against her bigger body. His face scrunches up. He sighs. "(BLEEP!). Are ... are you gonna ... "
She is.
"I can't believe this is ... ah, actually! Happening! Oh!" Her breath hitches. "Ohh!" she cries, eyes rolling back as she has a powerful orgasm. "Yesssss!"
Lonny gasps as her sex tightly clenches, or 'winks,' around his extremely sensitive cock. "Holy (BLEEP!)-ing ... (BLEEP!)." He tosses his head back and howls. A squeaky grasshopper mouse howl, losing it inside her.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - LONNY:"Oh, yeah. She's been moused." He grins and sprawls back. "Mare (BLEEP!)?" He gave a 'chef's kiss' gesture.
INTERVIEW CHAIR - WINIFRED:"Best. Episode. Ever! Hah! I had so much fun. Oh, he's no stallion, but ... I don't care. What a dreamboat. I came so hard. Oops. Am I allowed to say that? Heh."
She giggles, huffs, and brushes her mane back. Mentions, almost as an afterthought, "The house? Yeah, looks great, now. The Winterfest Slamboree was a huge success, too."
The mare lights up as she remembers, "Oh, as a Christmas present, Lonny autographed my boob!"
Winifred flashes the camera. She's not wearing a bra and her breasts are pixelated to obscure detail.
"I took a pic. I'm going to frame it!" A pause, smoothing her festive sweater back down. "The photo, not the boob."
INTERVIEW CHAIR - MONTY : "Yeah. I saw 'em leave the smorgasfest, or whatever it was called. Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. And, yes, I told everyone else in the group before Lonny could brag about it. Took some wind out of his sails."
The house mouse shrugs.
"But, hey. Good for Lonny, I guess? It is the holiday season." Monty puts on a rare, unabated smile. "I'm off to the Virgin Islands to be un-virginal, so what do I care?" He waves at the audience. "Merry Christmas, everyone!"
Cut to driveway.
As the 'Mouse Your House' van pulls around the front of the Holiday House and drives away, the lights in the front yard flicker and then turn off.
END OF EPISODE.
The announcer returns.
"Thanks for watching! Tune in next year for all new episodes of Mouse Your House! Who will get moused next?!
"Up now, it's Mouse Your House: Apartment Edition! A real Christmas tree in an apartment building? How do you get it up the stairs when the elevator isn't working? The city mice are about to find out!"